


grow among the glowing orchids

by telekinetic_hedgehog



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, Butt Plugs, Childhood, Coming of Age, Crushes, Dysphoria, Gags, Gender Dysphoria, Handcuffs, Masturbation, No Underage Sex, Other, Porn With Plot, Self-Bondage, Sexism, Sexual Fantasy, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 16:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14060571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telekinetic_hedgehog/pseuds/telekinetic_hedgehog
Summary: As a kid on Yavin 4, Poe doesn't yet know he's transgender. One summer at the start of puberty, the child he used to be confronts gender roles,  learns to be a leader, and experiences a crush for the first time.Years later, soon before the events of The Force Awakens, he is comfortable with his body and the man he's become.





	grow among the glowing orchids

**Author's Note:**

> There's no underage sexual content, just preteens having crushes on each other. 
> 
> Unless you have an affectionate astromech of your own, don't use a pecker gag while on your back (it's a choking hazard), and always have a backup release in self-bondage. 
> 
> I'm transmasculine and use she/her/girl for the person I was pre-transition, because that's how I identified at the time. Many trans people don't, though, so it's better to ask if you aren't sure.

Leading a Resistance fleet was tough work, and Poe needed some time alone to de-stress. He locked the door to his room, just in case anyone managed to get past BB-8 outside the door, took off his boots, and made sure the blinds were closed before moving a heavy, bulky box down from the top of his closet onto his bed. A padlock secured the box, and Poe entered a combination that only he knew. He felt a tingle of arousal at the sight of the toys in the box-- but he was getting ahead of himself. Eager, he peeled off the top of his flight suit and shoved the elastic waistband down over his hips, stripped out of his undershirt, and threw it onto the floor. He slid his boxers and the rest of the flightsuit down his legs and stepped out of the pile of clothes. 

<><><><><>

Years ago, on Yavin 4, there was a small child. Child? Girl? She would have called herself a girl, even if she wasn’t happy with everything that meant, and she went by a name that Poe still sometimes cringes at. Tomboy was a good word. She had her mother’s curly hair and her father’s practical sense of style, and, like them, she was full of life and a thirst for adventure. 

Back in those days, there were plenty of kids her age in the town and the ranches around where her family lived. Victory kids, they were called. And the victory kids grew up hearing their parents’ stories of the war and dreaming that their lives were that exciting, that they themselves could be that brave. The jungle was tall and wide and dense, but it was safe, and the kids who grew up there knew their way around all its paths and nooks. Every summer, they spent most days playing outside: hide-and-seek, capture-the-flag, Rebels vs. Imperials, or usually some combination of those games. 

This summer, though, Aimie Salez and Bria Mortinson had convinced the rest of the girls that painting nails and sewing doll outfits would be more fun than getting sweaty and gross outside with the boys. (In hindsight, years later, it was probably no coincidence that the oldest of the victory kids were just starting to wear deodorant and to care about how they looked and smelled.) And as much as she liked them and got along just fine, the girl who would grow up and become Poe Dameron didn’t think that anything indoors sounded as fun as the competition and adventure the boys were having. 

On the first day of summer, the game of Rebels and Imperials was especially close. Dameron’s Rebel teammates hadn’t listened to her when they were coming up with a strategy, so she’d ignored them and snuck across enemy lines alone. If she could spy on the other team, and see where they were guarding and where they were lying in wait, maybe she could get the other players to hear her out next time. 

She was crouching in some bushes, scanning the area and pretending she was after the actual Death Star plans with Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso, when--

“Gotcha!” One of the play-Imperials slapped their hand onto her back. 

Startled, she turned around to see Emil, a boy who lived on the ranch a few kilometers down the road from her. 

He grinned and said, in a terrible imitation of a Core accent, “Your mission’s over, Rebel scum. You’re coming with me.” 

With a frustrated huff, she climbed out of the bushes. Well, at least Emil was getting into it, and she always appreciated that, even if he was a bit of a ham. 

She played along: “I’ll never betray the Rebellion! Your interrogator droids won’t get a word out of me.” 

“We’ll see. I bet it won’t take long for you to crack,” Emil said in the same bad accent. He flashed her his best evil smile, obviously enjoying himself, and held onto her arm just above the elbow. 

Depending on who was playing, they might interrogate captured opponents, and sometimes if a kid was bad at lying they’d give something away, but there was never any real danger. The closest they’d come to torture was when Kal Santana captured her twin brother Tal and threatened that if Tal didn’t share where the Imperials had hidden the Death Star plans, Kal would tell everyone a very embarrassing story implied to involve bedwetting. He had immediately given up a location and begged her not to tell it, but it turned out he was lying. His teammates were so excited to have won the game that they didn’t care about the story, which wasn't terribly embarrassing after all. They didn't try coercion after that. The setup was unrealistic, but if you had a big enough imagination, you could pretend and make yourself feel brave. Not that a child of Shara and Kes had anything to fear; she’d inherited her mother’s cool under pressure and her father’s ability to keep secrets. 

Emil led his captive to a clearing where several of the “Moffs” were gathered. “I got one!” he bragged. 

“Good job, Emil. Just put her in the jail, okay?” one of the bigger boys said, barely looking in their direction. 

The jail was the space between four trees that stood in something of a rectangle shape, and the kids had strung rope and sticks around them in a makeshift net. Vines grew up into it, and it seemed to get more tangled every summer. Emil lifted the one corner of the net that opened and waved his prisoner inside. She didn’t put up a fight; the rules were the rules, and besides, a real Imperial would probably have her at gunpoint to make her comply. 

Several Rebel teammates were already in the jail. 

“I thought we told you to stay behind and guard the base,” one of them said, his eyes narrowing accusingly. 

“No one gave me an assignment. You guys were talking over me the whole time.” 

“So, what, you were just gonna come over here and win the game all on your own?” said another boy. 

“Of course not,” she snapped. “Every military needs spies.” 

A clamor of shouts and crashes through the jungle stole their attention. Marco, a kid from the “city”-- the densest part of the village-- burst into sight and stuck his arm through the net. The boys in jail crowded around him as he tagged each of them in turn to free them. Dameron tried to make it to him, but her teammates pushed her aside, and she fell to the ground. 

“Hey!” An Imperial ran towards them shouting, and the boys scattered. By the time she made it to her feet, one of them had pulled Marco away. 

“Just leave her. She should have stayed inside with the girls,” she heard someone say as the boys vanished into the jungle. 

She watched them leave from behind the ropes of the jail, stunned. 

The enemy player came back, breathing hard, after apparently failing to catch any of the Rebels. 

“They left you here, huh? What’d you do to tick them off?” 

_ I don’t know, _ she wanted to say.  _ What about last summer, when we all played together? What about Kal being the best team leader, or Bria being the fastest, or Esme’s brilliant strategies? The boys had  _ fought  _ over who would have girls on their team. _

It wasn’t fair. 

Holding back tears, she pushed the net aside and ran. 

“Hey, that’s cheating! Get back here!” 

“I quit!” she shouted back. “I’m going home!” 

Her tears made it hard to see, but she didn’t stop running until she made it back to her family’s ranch and inside the house, where she collapsed on the cool, pumpkin-orange tiles and let herself cry. 

_ “M’ija _ , what’s wrong?” Her mother rushed into the foyer, knelt next to her, and wrapped her in her arms. 

The child sobbed into the dark curls of her mother's hair and held her tightly. 

“Are you hurt? What happened?” Mamá asked with concern. 

She shook her head and tried to speak.

“I-- I-- They--” She sniffled and started over. “The boys don’t want me on their team ‘cuz I’m a girl.” 

“Aww,  _ m’ija. _ I’m sorry.” Mamá rubbed her back, and the girl's sobs slowed. “It's not your fault, sweetheart. Boys are stupid like that sometimes.” 

Her eyes widened. It wasn’t often that her parents called anyone a mean word like stupid. 

Mamá continued: “Girls can do everything boys can do. Even if the boys don’t believe us.” 

“I don’t wanna be a girl. I wanna be a boy.” 

_ “M’ija, _ you’re perfect just the way you are.” Mamá pulled back from the hug to look her in the eyes. “Were you playing Rebels and Imperials this time?” 

She nodded. 

“Well then, those boys are being especially silly. Did they forget that Mon Mothma led the Rebellion? And what about Leia Organa? A princess, and a leader. She helped bring us the Death Star plans, planned strategy during our most difficult years, and took down the shields on Endor with your father. Do the boys think she should have stayed home because she was a girl? And the other side had Director Iceheart-- Ysanne Isard-- in charge of Imperial intelligence, and being a girl didn’t stop her from being cunning and powerful. Granted, she’s not the best role model for you, but anyone who says girls can’t be part of Rebels and Imperials is not just unfair, but doesn’t know their history.” 

Shara Bey was too modest to bring it up herself, but her child had not forgotten who the lieutenant of Green Squadron was, either. It was true: the Rebellion would not have been possible without women. Still… something about being a girl didn’t fit right. 

“You don’t have to play with anyone who’s mean to you. And you can take all the time you need to feel better. But I think you can give it another shot. Stick up for yourself, show them they can’t scare you off that easy. Right,  _ m’ija _ ?” 

She smiled and wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hands. “Right.” 

The next morning, she walked alone down the path from her family's ranch. She came to the fork in the road, one path leading to the jungle, the other, to the village. 

She could at least try to be a girl. Maybe it would be fun; maybe it was where she belonged. 

She turned toward the village and walked until she reached Aimie’s house. After a deep breath, she reached up and knocked on the door. 

“Come on in!” Aimie called from inside. 

Dameron went inside and joined a circle of girls sitting on the floor around a pile of nail polish, polish remover, and a huge mound of cotton balls. They were smiling and laughing, and some of them were already painting each other's toes and fingernails. She sat on the soft carpet and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the sharp smell. She felt out of place in her shorts with all the useful pockets and wondered if she should have worn a skirt or leggings instead. 

“He's cute, though!” Esme was insisting, blushing brighter than the hot pink Bria was painting on her toes. 

“Gross!” Kal shook her head. “No way.” 

“Of course you think so,” said Jessa. “he's your brother. But Tal, oh my gosh, Tal’s dimples!” 

Bria capped the pink polish and grinned at Esme. “All righty, you're all set! Just let them dry, and then we'll do the flowers.” 

“Thanks!” said Esme, and she blew towards her toes to make them dry faster. 

Bria scooted over to Dameron. “Do you want some of this color? It's new,” she offered. 

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” She held her hands out, and Bria started on her thumb in thick, smooth strokes. The polish felt cold on her nails. 

“I don't see how you can like a goober like Tal when Cedre is out there with his gorgeous brown eyes,” said Kal. 

“Ooh, he does have pretty eyes,” agreed Aimie. “What about you? Do you, y'know,  _ like _ -like anybody?” 

It took Dameron a second to realize that Aimie was talking to her. 

“No, just regular-like.” She smiled nervously. “What about you?”

Aimie blushed. “I do  _ like _ -like someone, but she's a girl.” 

_ Oooh, _ went the circle, clearly thrilled and intrigued.  

“Is it someone here?” Kal asked, but Aimie just blushed harder and squeezed her eyes shut. 

It was a fun day, Dameron decided several hours later as she walked home. Her fingernails were pink with orange butterflies,purple bioluminescent orchids, and a Rebel insignia on both thumbs. The girls were really nice. Being a girl was good, even if it did feel a little like playing a part she wasn't cut out for. Maybe she could learn how. But maybe she could also learn how to get along with the boys. With a twinge of sadness, she wished everyone could just play together again. Being outside was fun, and painting nails was fun, and it didn't make sense to split up.

The next day, she stood at the crossroads again. She stood there for a few minutes, stuck. In the end, she couldn't even explain to herself why, but she pulled herself together and went down the familiar jungle path to the clearing where they picked teams. 

Emil smiled when he saw her. “Hey, Dameron! What happened the other day? I heard you went home.” 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” she said, truthfully. 

“But you feel better today?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Thanks for asking.” 

“Filip and I are team captains today. What do you think, should I be the Empire or the Rebellion this time?” 

He was… asking her? She straightened up and smiled. “Definitely the Rebellion. Can’t go wrong being the good guys.” 

“Good point. It's the side that's built on hope.” 

_ Hope. _ She stood as tall as she could as the sides were picked. Emil chose her, not first, but sooner than she'd been picked the other day. The Rebels, in a cluster that wove through the forest like a school of fish weaving through the roots in the creek that flowed through the ranches to the village, followed Emil to their base. They gathered around a flat rock that they pretended was a holoprojector, back when everyone used their imagination and the game was less cutthroat. 

“All right, Pathfinders, I'm General Solo,” Emil said in a Corellian accent. “Welcome to the Rebel Alliance. I need flag guards, border guards, scouts, and a jailer--"

“I'll guard the flag," Tal cut him off.

“I wanna be a scout,” said Marco.

“I'm with Marco,” said Cedre. 

“Cool. Lor, Amet, you're with Tal. Leon, Tesku, and, uhh… Yenni. You've got the border. Corto, you good with being the jailer?” 

Corto was a smaller kid, and he could sprint fast but didn't have a lot of endurance, so that was a good move on Emil’s part. 

“Yes sir, general,” Corto saluted, playing along. 

“That leaves me and Dameron. What do you guys think, should we have four scouts or four flag guards?” 

“I think we should let Dameron get captured and play without her.” Marco rolled his eyes. “I dunno why you picked a useless girl.” 

“Leia Organa got captured by the Empire, and she wasn't useless. She helped take Endor, and she rescued General Solo,” Dameron fired back. 

“Well since you rescued me,” Emil said, still in his silly accent, “what do you wanna do, Princess?” 

She took a deep breath and tried to imitate Leia Organa. “Well, Filip is the other team captain, and he likes more risky strategies. So we can either give ourselves an extra defender to counter his scouts, or we can try to sneak onto their turf while it's poorly defended. Maybe Emil and I could start off as border guards and then switch to scouts once we've got a few prisoners. Or one of us could distract their guards from the real scout.”

“Good thinking,” Emil nodded. 

“Huh. That's actually not a bad idea,” said Tal. 

It wasn't a bad idea, in fact. Two prisoners in, she and Emil gave each other a little nod, and she created a diversion, dashing back onto her side of the border just before the kid she was envisioning in stormtrooper armor would have tagged her. She evaded Leia’s fate in that respect, at least. A few more times she taunted their opponents, and less than twenty minutes later, Emil crashed back across to Rebel territory, raised the black cloth representing the Empire flag above his head, and whooped in victory. 

Grinning, Dameron jumped up, punched the air, and cheered. The kids met back at the starting spot, in a small neutral zone, and her teammates high-fived one another. 

Corto saluted: “Great strategy, Princess.”

She saluted back. “Great work yourself. We couldn’t have done it without each of us.”

Corto beamed. Marco rolled his eyes, but Dameron didn’t care. It made it all the sweeter when Tal chose her for the Empire next round and her strategy helped them beat Marco’s Rebellion. The look on his face was priceless. 

The rest of the week, she proved herself again and again in a way that none of the boys had to. It wasn’t fair, but she was up for the challenge. She wasn’t perfect, and more than once something she suggested went disastrously wrong or was ignored completely. But overall, they grew to accept her as one of them. 

She and Emil grew closer, too. He always picked her when he was team captain, and when they finally gave her a turn, she chose him first. They walked home together at the end of the day and walked to the neutral zone together every morning. He confided in her his dreams to travel the galaxy, to get off their small moon and see what wonders were out there among the stars. He wanted to be a freight pilot, or a travel writer, or maybe just a hitchhiker. She thought that sounded incredible. At night she fell asleep imagining exploring foreign planets with Emil at her side. 

A few weeks into the summer, she had an idea. She suggested it to the girls at first, and while some of them felt nervous about being around the boys they had crushes on, she pointed out that Aimie had been around her crush all summer and no one knew who it was yet. With the girls on board, she took it to the boys. And, to her delight (and a little surprise), they agreed. 

From then on, most days of the week, the kids played Rebels and Imperials outside, role-playing like they used to. One or two days they played with dolls-- or, well, “action figures"-- of their characters, dressing them up in handmade pilot jumpsuits and Imperial uniforms and filling flimsi notebooks with backstories and tales of heroism in the war. And if the jail got a little boring, someone was always there with a bottle of nail polish to help pass the time. 

The games became fun again. Turned out, Marco did a stellar core accent, Corto had a hilarious Wedge Antilles impression and a steady hand for polish, and Cedre and Bria were terrifying Grand Moffs. Leon was a skillful doll-tailor. Kal gave Cedre a fantastic Rebel Admiral hat she'd sewn herself. They all decided that Dameron was Leia Organa, and she played the part with pride each time she was on the Rebels’ side. Mamá and Papá told her everything they remembered about her, how she was feisty and daring enough to take on the Empire nearly alone at Naboo, yet kind enough to befriend a whole tribe of Ewoks and personally write to the families of those who gave their lives in the war. So the youngest Dameron took risks, spoke with confidence, and always encouraged her teammates. 

“I'm proud of you,” Mamá said with a warm smile when she heard how things had changed. “I knew you had it in you.” 

On the last day of the moon's short summer, the kids had set up their most intense game yet. Dameron wasn't a team captain, but she was one of the first to be picked. Emil was picked right after her-- by the other team’s captain. Her team was the Rebellion, and she slipped into her Leia role easily. She traced a strategy in dirt on the flat rock, trying to maximize the strengths of each teammate. This game would be complicated-- they were playing with two flags for each team, and each flag found would have to be re-hidden until one team had all four. It was all or nothing. 

Filip--Major Jood, rather-- put the Rebels in the lead with the first flag, sprinting across the line to safety with what looked like half the other team on his heels. But an unfortunate number of the Rebel scouts got captured, and the remaining Rebels couldn't defend their territory from the Imperial invaders. Moff Tal swiped a Rebel flag and brought the game back to a tie. 

Aimie, who went by Rogue Erso when she was a Rebel, made it to the Imperial jail and freed her teammates, putting them back in the game. Esme found an Imperial flag and snuck it across without even being noticed, giving the Rebellion the lead again. 

One flag to go. Dameron found most of the Rebel scouts, heard where they'd already looked, and told them where to look next so they wouldn't waste time searching spots they'd already searched. There were dozens of places where the flags could be. But after hearing where they'd searched already, she suspected she knew where the last flag was. 

In Imperial territory, near the back of the area they played in, there was a tree that had a hollow spot several meters off the ground. It was possible to climb up to it, but they'd see you as you were climbing and be ready to tag you as soon as your ankle got down within jumping distance. They'd used it last summer, so much that it was one of the first places the Rebel team would check, and once it got overused, it fell out of style. She couldn't remember anyone using it this summer, not even once. But she had a hunch that's where the last flag would be. 

_ Let's do this, _ she told herself. 

When the coast was clear, she snuck across the border to Imperial territory. She pretended she was a Pathfinder on Endor, like Papá and like Leia, trying not to make a sound. She took her time. They needed the shields down quickly, but they couldn't lower them at all if they were caught. 

Despite almost running into the Empire guards a few times, she made it to the tree with the hollow in it. It was taller than she remembered. She took a deep breath and reached for the first branch. This part had to be quick, and she climbed from one branch to the next in a hurry. Finally, she made it to the hollow and peered in. Sure enough, there was the last flag. 

A thrill ran through her, and she couldn't stop herself grinning. Since she couldn't climb while holding it, she stuffed it in her pocket and made a swift descent. 

She was almost to the ground, still glancing around, when Emil burst out of the bushes into the clearing. 

“Halt, Rebel scum!” 

“Not on your life!” 

She leapt from the tree, hitting the ground running, zipping as fast as she could between trees and over uneven ground. 

Emil sprinted right behind her, hunting her down. Her lungs burned, and her belly cramped, but she ran as fast as she could make her legs go, because the Rebellion needed her. 

The border grew closer, but she wasn't going to make it. She reached in her pocket and prepared to throw the wad into Rebel territory, but the motion slowed her down too much. 

Emil tackled her to the ground. He was on top of her in an instant, holding her wrists down against the dirt and prying the black cloth from her grip. 

_ “Oof--” _ She struggled, but he held her tight and managed to steal back the flag. They were both flushed and breathing hard, and their faces were just centimeters apart. 

Looking up at him, she felt a longing in her chest and a warmth between her legs that felt good in a way that she couldn't explain, but also a little bit wrong in a way she couldn't explain either. 

She wanted him to kiss her. 

She wanted her body not to feel vaguely foreign, but to feel hers. 

And she wanted him to hold her down as long as he liked. 

_ “Oh,” _ was all she could say. 

“Oops, sorry, Dameron,” Emil said, embarrassed, as he released her wrists and climbed off of her. “I got carried away. You all right?” 

“Oh sure,” she said, breathless. “I'm--"  _ incredible-- _ “just fine.” 

“Okay.” He nodded, still out of breath himself, and gave her a timid, uncertain smile that made her simply melt. “You're coming with me, Senator. And you're going to tell us everything you know.” 

She smiled back and held out her wrists in front of her, wearing invisible binders. “You'll get a map of hyperspace lanes out of a bantha before you get any locations from me.” 

Emil tried, mostly successfully, to stifle a laugh. He hopped to his feet and took her hands to help her up. 

She was a flushed tangle of emotions as he steered her towards the jail. “Y’know, you could always join the Rebellion. Help out the good guys, be on the winning side.” 

“None of that propaganda, Senator. I'm loyal to the Emperor.” 

By the time he “locked" her away, they'd caught their breath. She didn't know what happened with her, even though she had quite some time to ponder it in the jail. 

The teams went back and forth all day with no winner, until eventually the sun cast long shadows and the sky turned pink with dusk. The stars were just starting to come out and the Yavinese orchids were glowing when they called a truce and determined to settle it later. 

But time changes things. The next summer, a couple of the older boys had summer jobs, and a few younger siblings wanted to join the game. Aimie had finally confessed her feelings to Bria, and the two of them were going steady. Emil’s family had moved offworld, and while he sent a lot of postcards at first, they gradually tapered off as he made new friends and grew into a teenager. 

Dameron had experienced her first crush, and she was both relieved and rather wistful when she learned how easily they could fade. She learned a lot of things about her body and herself.  

Her first year of high school, she learned about a species from a planet in the Colonies sector that could choose which sex it would become. At the beginning of its puberty, it would create a cocoon around itself, and which materials it used would determine its adult appearance, its reproductive system and its role in the ecosystem. That night in bed, she wrapped her blankets around herself, cocoon-like, and wished she could choose to become a man. 

It wasn’t until she joined the New Republic’s fleet and got off Yavin 4 and around the galaxy some that she learned that humans  _ could  _ transition. As soon as she heard the word  _ transgender  _ and what it meant, it was obvious. She was already wearing masculine clothes, and she got her hair cut short. She tried out a few masculine names and eventually settled on Poe. Poe asked people to use  _ he _ and  _ him _ instead of  _ she _ and  _ her, _ and he saw a medtech about physically transitioning. 

There was something hard about losing the name his mother had chosen and seeing less and less of her when he looked in the mirror. But he knew she’d support him in being his true self. He was determined to be the kind of man she’d be proud of. After a few years of testosterone injections, and surgery on his chest, you’d have never known that people had thought of him as anything other than male unless you saw his medical records or looked too close in the locker room. 

He had crushes on other men, but he was too busy with the Republic, and later, the Resistance, to look into dating or hooking up. He knew what he liked and what felt good, and he had a few toys that met his needs. 

<><><><><>

In the privacy of his quarters on the Resistance base, Poe set aside the pile of his clothes and climbed onto his bed. It had taken a while for him to feel comfortable being naked, but now he found his body not only acceptable but enjoyable. 

The first things he took out of his toybox were a bottle of lube and the metal plug that his mind had kept skipping to during the strategy meetings earlier and that he couldn’t wait to have inside him. After smearing the plug with plenty of lube, he bent over his bed with his ass in the air, and spread his legs apart. Reaching behind him, he pressed the tip of the plug against his rim. The slick metal of the plug was cold enough to send a shiver through him, and his muscles resisted it. 

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, letting his breath out slowly and releasing the tension in his body. With a gentle pressure, and willing himself to relax, he guided the plug into his ass until he felt a familiar, slightly burning stretch. Gently he fucked himself with it, taking it deeper with each thrust as his ass loosened and the plug warmed to his body. When he got to the thickest part of it, he paused, feeling himself stretch around it, before letting it slide in with an audible squelch. It fit snugly, comfortably, like it was made just for him. He got up and walked to his fresher, feeling the solid, heavy plug shift inside him as he moved, and rinsed the lube off his hands before settling back down on his bed. 

The next thing out of the box was a pair of clothespins. Poe ran his fingers over his chest, gently scratching over his nipples, over hairy skin and barely-visible scars. Less gently, he took his nipples between his fingers and played with them-- pinching, pulling, and twisting. The stimulation only added to his arousal. He hummed, pleased. When his nipples were flushed and erect, he pulled them away from the solid muscle underneath and clamped them with one clothespin and then the other. The bright pain sent a lustful pulse between his legs. 

By this point he was really turned on, and as much as he didn’t want to rush this, he was eager to finish getting himself ready. He pulled out a pecker gag and hesitated, biting his lip, before opening wide and fitting it all in his mouth. The size of it still intimidated him a little. It wasn’t deep enough to touch the back of his throat, even after he buckled it in place, but it filled his mouth, and he had to suck on the siliplast cock head to keep from drooling. Having both his holes stuffed-- the two that mattered anyway-- felt so right, so satisfying. 

Poe took the last few items he needed out of his box and moved the box to the floor. Sitting in the middle of his bed, he tied rope around each of his ankles and secured the rope to the end of the bed so that his legs were spread apart in front of him. He tied a blindfold around his head and laid down on his back-- a little too quickly for comfort, since the nipple clamps and butt plug shifted and made themselves felt. Searching in the self-imposed darkness, he found his small, round vibrator and its controller and set the vibrator on its lowest setting. It wouldn’t be enough to get him off, just to tease him and make him desperate. He nestled the vibe between his folds and pressed it against his hard, compact dick.  _ Oh, _ that felt good. It took some self-control not to just jerk himself off right then, but he pulled his hand away. 

He fastened one half of his binders around one wrist, relishing the weight and pressure. This was one of his favorite toys: a time-release set of bondage cuffs designed to look and feel like Imperial stun cuffs. A few years back he’d mailed in a catalogue insert while he was horny and drunk one night, and since then BB-8 had been much more careful about keeping him from making purchases he couldn’t afford. Still, he had to admit he’d gotten what he paid for out of them. He reached his arms through the vertical bars on his headboard, stretching himself out, but not tightly. 

There was always a knot of fear in his stomach right before he locked himself in. He’d be alone in the dark, with no way to stop the pain in his nipples or the ache in his jaw, until the timer ran out and freed him. But Poe had never let fear stop him, and he tightened and locked the second half of his cuffs. 

Once he was past the point of no return, the knot in his stomach melted. Maybe somehow his body knew he was helpless and simply resigned. He tugged at the restraints, feeling how they limited him. There was something secure in how they felt, something reassuring. 

What  _ wasn’t _ calming was the vibe against his dick. The whole time he’d been getting ready he’d wanted some stimulation there, and now the teasing rumble was both too much and not enough. He was so hard, and his hips jerked up as if to press him against the vibrator. He was breathing faster, and he couldn’t keep still. Groaning into his gag, he threw his head back, dug his heels into the bed, and arched his back, strong enough to lift his ass off the bed and make it clench around the plug. 

He was alone in his body, in his mind. Without any sight or sense of time, he was free to fantasize. He imagined that the gag was a real cock, and he sucked and licked it as if to please a partner. Maybe Poe was a prisoner of the Empire, or maybe he'd convinced some handsome man to defect and stolen the cuffs in a daring escape. Either way, the fantasy of being tied down like this and putting his mouth to use turned him on. He swirled his tongue around the siliplast cock head and licked faster. When the fictional partner came and the cock was still hard, Poe strained against the cuffs.

Struggling against the restraints covered him in a thin layer of sweat and made his muscles sore. The darkness of the blindfold and the white noise of the vibrator were disorienting, and he lost track of time. With the vibrator against his dick, he was desperate to cum, but there was no way to know how much longer he had to wait. And there was the constant ache of the clamps on his nipples and the stretch of his jaw. 

It had to be soon, it just  _ had  _ to. He groaned in frustration and ran his tongue along the underside of the gag.

Finally, the cuffs opened with a click and clattered to the floor. Immediately Poe’s hand was on his dick, stroking with a pressure that was actually satisfying. With the other hand, he took the clothespins off his chest.  _ Stars, _ the blood rushing back was more painful than the clamps. It was only seconds before he came, pleasure flooding his cock. His vulva and ass pulsed rhythmically, spasming around his plug, and he moaned with delight and relief. The wave of his orgasm calmed to a pleasurable throbbing, and the frantic energy of his arousal melted into a drowsy calm. 

He managed to get up before falling asleep this time. He washed his plug, coiled his rope, and put his toys back in their box. With the box re-locked and safe on its shelf, he put on some pajamas, unlocked his door, and let BB-8 in. 

The little droid always acted happy to see him, even though it hadn't been even an hour and BB had been monitoring him from the other side of the door as an extra measure of safety. Poe made sure BB was set up on the charging station before ducking into the fresher to brush his teeth. He climbed into bed and nestled between the covers. 

In the dark, quiet room, in his sleepy, post-orgasm bliss, Poe took a moment to feel grateful. This wasn't how he ever expected his life to turn out, and it wasn't easy. But he had a job doing something meaningful, and his needs were met. He'd gotten to see parts of the galaxy he had only dreamed of seeing, back when he was a kid on Yavin 4. Black Squadron and BB-8 were more than just comrades; they were family, and he felt the joy of belonging. 

He hadn't just grown into a man. He'd grown into a person he was proud of. 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Cognomen, rinskiroo, and Zoe_Dameron for their help with various aspects of this fic! It wouldn't have been possible without you <3 And thank you to the folks running Poe Week <3


End file.
